Off Chance (9 page)

But there’s no forgetting Rowan Page.

What I’ll go ahead and admit is that I’m lying to myself just a bit when I act ignorant of my reasons for getting involved. Ever since Marney died, I’m obsessed with saving people. Clearly, it’s the reason I became a firefighter and it’s the reason I take some unnecessary risks that have landed me in hot water with my Chief and crew. But it extends beyond just pulling people from the flames. I also get involved where it’s probably not my business, and try to make situations better.

Case in point... Rowan Page.

Clearly none of my business, and yet I want to make things better for her.

I think about this vexing woman the entire trip over to Nix’s house. She’s an enigma and I’m probably a bit obsessed with finding out more about her. How does someone that is clearly intelligent with a good dose of street smarts get involved with a drug dealer? Is she involved in the drug trade? I also wonder why she left her boyfriend, and I wonder if he’s coming back for her to finish the job.

All of these thoughts have me on edge, and I know I can’t solve all of her problems today. But I am intent on helping her solve them if she’ll let me.

I pull into Nix’s driveway and jog up to his front porch, knocking on the door rapidly. It opens up and Nix eyes me up and down.

“What’s up, loser?”

“Not much, bonehead. Is Emily around?”

Nix’s eyebrows rise in surprise but he nods, stepping aside to let me in.

“Are you having an illicit affair with my fiancée?” he asks with a grin.

I chuckle but then deadpan, “Yes, we are
illicitly
having an affair... right here... in front of you. In fact, I made sure you were here before I came knocking on the door.”

Nix responds with a boisterous laugh and it warms my heart. My cousin didn’t have a lot to laugh about in the not-to-distant past. Struggling to overcome physical and emotional injuries from his time spent in the Afghanistan war, he became a recluse and the once close bond I shared with him growing up had eroded to almost nothing.

That was until he met Emily Burnham. That’s when my boy became a new man.

Right on cue, Emily comes skipping down the stairs. “Flynn,” she says in surprised delight. “What brings you out here?”

Emily throws her arms around me in a hug and I grin over her shoulder at Nix, waggling my eyebrows. “See... we’re very illicit.”

Pulling back, Emily looks between Nix and me. “What’s illicit?”

I shrug my shoulders. “The affair you and I are having under Nix’s nose.”

Emily just gives me an accommodating smile and starts walking back to the kitchen. “I see. We’re very stealthy, aren’t we? Well, come on back and let’s have some coffee. We can make future illicit plans. I was just getting ready to make some breakfast.”

Nix and I follow Emily into the kitchen. I hadn’t called before coming over and just took a gamble that Emily would be here. Even though she has an apartment in the city that she shares with her college roommate, Fil, she stays over at Nix’s house most nights.

Glancing over, I see Nix’s dog, Harley, lies in front of the kitchen windows, basking in the early morning son. He raises his head, gives me a lazy look, and then goes back to sleep.

“So seriously, what brings you over here?” Emily asks as she pours a cup of coffee and slides it across the counter toward me. She knows I take it black so doesn’t offer anything else.

“I need to borrow some of your clothes.”

Emily just stares at me blankly, and Nix rolls his eyes. “First, you’re having an affair with my fiancée and now you want to dress up in her clothes?”

“Yeah, it’s not as kinky as it sounds. Short version of a very long and whacked story is that I have a temporary, female roommate who I rescued from a fire yesterday. She has nothing to her name except a pair of surgical scrubs they released her from the hospital with. I was hoping to borrow a set of Emily’s clothes, particularly shoes, so I can take her shopping for some stuff today.”

After I finish my story, I watch to gauge their reaction. Both Emily and Nix just continue to stare at me, not saying a word.

I wait, particularly for Emily to pipe up that she’d be glad to help.

I’m met with silence.

Sighing deeply, I say, “What’s the silent treatment for?”

Emily and Nix exchange a quick look, but it’s filled with a little bit of worry, and a whole lot of frustration.

“Okay... go ahead and spill it out. Let’s get this over with.” I pull a kitchen chair out from the table, turn it backward, and straddle it, resting my arms across the back.

Nix leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. “Isn’t it a little out of the norm for a firefighter to bring one of his rescues home?”

It’s a legitimate question coming from anyone, but I know where Nix is headed. “You already know the answer to that, Nix. Why don’t you just say what you really want to say?”

My voice is hard and unforgiving. I’ve heard these concerns before from practically every family member and close friend.

Before Nix can say anything else, Emily steps forward, laying a restraining hand on Nix’s arm so he doesn’t say anything further. Nix isn’t known for his tact. “Flynn... you know we’re just worried about you. You tend to take on every hopeless and lost cause there is, often to your detriment, many times causing you pain.”

“And it often comes in the form of a woman,” Nix adds.

I shoot him a glare and then look back to Emily. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?”

“Flynn, it’s just that—” Emily starts to say but she gets cut off by Nix.

“You tend to date broken women and then you try to fix them. And when you find out you can’t fix them, or that they don’t want to be fixed, you’re left behind holding a broken heart and usually their debt.”

“Nix,” Emily says in a chastising tone.

“It’s true, Em. I know you haven’t known Flynn long, but ever since Marney died, he thinks every woman needs saved from some dark catastrophe.”

Emily opens her mouth to say something but I beat her to the punch. “Leave Marney out of this, Nix.” My voice is laced with so much venom, I can see Emily actually take a step backward.

There was a time in his life that Nix would have just as soon punched my lights out for talking to him that way, but he only drags his hand through his long hair in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “That was out of line. I just don’t want to see you hurt. You’re like a brother to me and I protect what’s mine.”

The anger deflates out of me and the tension leaves my shoulders. Standing from the chair, I clap a hand on his shoulder. “I know, man, and I love you for it. But this is a little different situation.”

“How so?” Emily asks.

“First... I’m not dating her and have no intentions of doing so. It was just a really interesting situation, and it’s a very temporary sort of help.”

Picking my coffee cup back up, I take another sip and then proceed to tell them the entire story of how I met Rowan Page. I speak in impersonal tones, so they don’t even catch a whiff of the fact that my interest in Rowan isn’t completely professional. Those gray eyes don’t just haunt me anymore, they’ve perked an interest in me that has me looking at her as a woman, and not as a victim.

But I’m not about to let them know that. I lay out the scenario, and assure them that I just want to help get her on her feet. I don’t hold back about the fact that she could be in danger so they understand that Rowan is truly in a bad situation and needs help.

By the time I’m finished, there’s no doubt in my mind Emily would have taken her in had I not. She rushes upstairs to pull together a few outfits that Rowan can borrow until I can buy her some new clothes.

Once she’s gone, Nix turns to me. “I’m really sorry for bringing Marney up.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been told I have a hero complex on more than one occasion.”

“With good reason, buddy. But just remember... you don’t have to fix everything. It’s not your responsibility to save the world.”

Fuck if I don’t know the truth of that statement, but it doesn’t stop me from trying my damnedest anyway.

I return back to my apartment with a very satisfied feeling that I’m making progress toward helping Rowan get back on her feet. I unlock the door and step in to silence. My first thought? It’s too quiet, and I’m immediately thinking that she’s left.

When I shut the door, she immediately calls out, “Flynn... is that you?”

“Yeah,” I answer and walk back toward her voice.

When I get to the bathroom, I look in and find her bent over the tub, scrubbing it out. And, yeah... because I’m a man, the first thing I notice is how slammin’ her ass looks all perked up into the air. It’s not something I had noticed before because my clothes are so damn big on her, and there was never any opportunity to notice her shape.

And what a shape it is, with my gym shorts pulled tight against her.

“Whatcha doing?” I ask.

She looks over her shoulder at me, her bangs hanging over her eyes. Blowing a puff of breath up to get them out of the way, she gives me a stern look. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m cleaning the scum out of your tub that clearly hasn’t been cleaned in years.”

Grinning at her, I shrug my shoulders. “It’s a known fact... single men are slobs.”

“You can say that again,” she says, and then turns around to continue scrubbing.

“You really don’t have to do that though... you’re my guest.”

She doesn’t even bother looking back at me. “Don’t even go there. We have an agreement. If I stay here, I need to earn my keep.”

Keeping my eyes pinned on her ass, I tell her, “Fine. I won’t say another word.”

She doesn’t respond and I lean up against the bathroom door, shamelessly ogling while I can.

“Are you looking at my ass?” Her tone is still hard, a Rowan Page trait, but if I’m not mistaken, there is a miniscule amount of teasing in it. It catches me off guard for just a second. So far, Rowan has been closed off, moody, and distrustful. I would never have thought she’d have the ability to tease. It actually lightens my mood even more.

“Yup. Busted me.”

I can hear her snicker and then she says, “Well, do something more useful and go put away those weeks’ worth of dishes I washed for you in the kitchen.”

“Sure thing. But when you’re done, I’ve got some clothes for you to wear and I thought we’d go out shopping for some more.”

Her scrubbing motion stops and I can see tension stiffen her shoulders. “Fine, but we need to make a stop first so I can get my money.”

“You got it.” I give one last wistful look at her ass, and head toward the kitchen.

I’m just putting up the last dish when Rowan walks in. When I look at her, I’m surprised by how lovely she looks. Now that her hair is clean and dry, it lends a new level of attractiveness to her. She has it cut so the ends just drag the tops of her shoulders but lays in shaggy lengths with long bangs that angle over one side of her face. The look is carefree and wistful. Coupled with her delicately boned face, she looks like a fairy pixie having stepped straight out of a fantasy movie. It’s very at odds with the hard life that I believe she’s had.

Pointing to the plastic bag on the table, I tell her, “There are a few outfits and some shoes in there.”

She opens the bag and pulls out a blouse laying on top. It’s dove gray and looks to be made of silk. It matches her eyes perfectly, which is an odd coincidence that Emily would choose it.

Rowan holds it up against her body and looks down at it. When she looks back up at me, her nose wrinkles in distaste. “It’s a little fancy, don’t you think?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” I tell her. The minute the words are out, I know they were a mistake.

Her eyes turn dark... the color of dirty steel, and she actually bares her teeth at me before she snarls, “I’m not a fucking beggar and I told you I don’t need your help.”

She throws the silk shirt back in the bag and storms down the hallway to the spare bedroom.

I’m stunned stupid for just a minute and then I take off after her. Rounding the corner of the bedroom door, I skid to a halt, mesmerized by the sight before me.

Rowan is jerking my t-shirt over her head and she throws it angrily to the floor. Her back is to me but I can see the curve of her breast from the side, and while I want to be captivated by the half-naked sight of a beautiful woman, I’m immediately dismayed when she reaches over and picks up the surgical scrub top that she had neatly folded and laid beside the bed.

“What are you doing?”

She doesn’t answer me immediately and apparently has no shame, because she turns to me and I have a momentary flash of two perfect breasts before she’s yanking the scrub top over her head. “I’m leaving—what does it look like?”

Her hands start working at the drawstring tie around my shorts she’s wearing and I leap forward, taking hold of her hands to stop her action. “Wait... please, just wait.”

Her hands still and she looks up at me. Her eyes are still dark and filled with fury. She doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I didn’t mean anything at all by that statement. It was just a cliché that popped out, but I don’t think of you as a beggar.”